2) I don’t know why I can’t get excited for the Oscars this year. It’s my third favorite day (after Christmas and my birthday) of the year. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve only seen 1 of the best pictures – and didn’t really feel a need to see the rest.

And the red carpet is not helping excite me any – although keep in mind that I’m on an 1+ hour delay (I don’t do commercials) so none of the A list celebs have made an appearance yet.

Earlier this week I’d heard about a booth in Grand Central Station where you could take your picture with Oscar. Cute, but I wasn’t about to stand in line to take a picture with some Ken doll painted gold. Except when I walked by the booth this afternoon I saw that it was a real Oscar statue – not plastic!!! Never mind my earlier scoffing – I was so there!

Oscar was HEAVY!!!

I was also not the only one that wanted to get up-close with the man of the evening.

Now I disagree but I would guess that some people would define over-indulgence as staying at a bar for 12 hours, during which lunch, happy hour, and dinner was served. And seeing the shift change of three waitresses.

We know how to say goodbye to another busy season in style.

And with that, I feel a quote from Braveheart is in order…. FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know that gross person who is barely running and yet producing so much sweat you are trying not to wrinkle your nose and lean away from their machine?

Exhibit A: Ladies and Gentlemen.

Seriously. This is gross. And a good 10 minutes after I finished my run / walk of the day. How does everyone else get the pretty I-just-worked-out-and-now-am-glowing-without-making-you-gag look?

Also, my high school had a huge ice bath tub for all the athletes to soak their legs in. I know this because I would sometimes visit my athletically inclined friends while they iced their sore muscles – and I also went to swipe ice chips (from the machine, not from the tub!) to suck on when it was hot out. I sure wish I had made use of benefits like that tub back in the day. My own ice bath is a little lacking.

I still remember getting in trouble in french class because I used a bright yellow one to complete my workbook assignment one night. The exact response I received was, “Who do you think I am? Superman. No mere mortal can read this color.” At the time I was pissed. Now I’m pretty sure me and this teacher would be great friends.

I’m going to say it. This year was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.

Growing up I was one of those people obsessed with Valentine’s Day – which made it the worst day of the year. Was my crush going to get me anything? (Probably not.) Was I going to be the only loser walking the halls alone? (With 420 kids in my grade alone, not likely.) Why didn’t my parents believe in arranged marriages – then I’d at least be destined to not end up alone! (No joke, this thought crossed my mind growing up – yuck!)

In college I still gave it WAY more importance than it needed but that was okay because I was also one of the dance instructors for our Annual Boston College Luau in March. This meant that pretty much every night in February I had dance practice. On February 14th each year I held an “optional practice” for anyone that wanted company on that most overly commercialized of days. And actually, that practice was usually a lot of fun because we mostly just blasted Hawaiian music and joked around until we all decided to find a bar to move on to.

Then I found a job in a career where the busiest time is usually January and February and for the majority of the last eight years, Valentine’s Day meant eating take out in front of my laptop with 10 or so other accountants. I think the only Valentine’s Day I ever made it home for was in 2010. That year, VDay was on a Sunday and I walked in the door at 9 AM after working through the night on Saturday. After a sleepy brunch I think I passed out for the rest of the day. Valentine’s Day had finally stopped holding any meaning for me whatsoever.

This year I had no idea if I’d make it home in time for dinner or even before midnight but at 8 PM I called Ryan to let him know that I would be home after all. And that’s when he put his plan into motion. I arrived home to the most fabulous Valentine’s Day card(s) ever:

And a three course dinner with drink pairings. I had figured we’d call our boy Mohammed at Dominos but Ryan had planned it all in advance, to come up with food that could be prepared in 15 minutes tops but still resembled a romantic dinner, just in case I showed up in time.

(You can’t see it under all the cheese (yum) but the second pasta dish had heart shaped lobster ravioli. Oh yeah, and I also didn’t bother taking a picture of the desserts until after sampling a fee cookies.)

But that wasn’t all. I also had a present to unwrap, after I found it in the refrigerator…

At 10 my perfect V-Day idea was that a guy would like me back (it was hard to be boy-crazy from so young). At 20 it was that I would one day be lavished with expensive dinners and gifts (as soon as we got real jobs and stopped needing to have our parents buy our groceries, toilet paper, everything). At 30 it is that someone will make me dinner when I get home late and let me pick what we watch on TV while we eat (Glee was exceptional).

At the end of it all he asked, “Was it okay?”

I told him that it was the best Valentine’s Day ever but that he shouldn’t have worked so hard, because I’d be expecting something next year.